'Where is that old building again?'
Looking around, June let out a small cough. Though still maintaining his usual poker face, he now shows a slight hint of annoyance.
The contrast between the air quality here compared to the fresh air of Bastion, was extreme. Even though it isn't the first time he been here, and had expected the pollution to be atrocious, June couldn't help but let out a frown.
'This putrid odor is repulsive as hell...'
The ground was cold and muddy, barely any plant life could grow or maintained itself from such plain and malnourished soil.
Surrounding him were a large number of slums and towers that held thousands upon thousands of civilians, most of whom probably didn't even get registered into the government registry. From a distance, smoke poured out from the factories, upward in columns, creating a dark blanket made out of ash that covers the celestial heavens itself.
Although June himself never visited these factories, the tales he had heard about such places were nothing sort but a horror story.
Due to being neglected by the Government and being unattended after for so long, the outskirts of Bastion have a poisonous and acrid air. The inhabitant of such a place tends to cram themselves into the towering buildings to protect themselves from the occasional deadly winds that make it past the barriers. Forming what most people now call 'Human hives'.
It is due to this that a lot of people have complained to the Government about the living conditions here in the past. But nothing really came about from the protest, after all, the way the government treated the outskirts was a means of necessity.
NQSC shelters around one-tenth of the total human population, yet there are only so many resources to nurse them. Which resulted in a minority, yet large group of people to being neglected, as a means to ensure the survival of the majority.
He remembers asking his grandfather about this as a kid, after seeing one of these protests about the treatment of the outskirts.
"Well, someone has to sacrifice themselves for the many."
That was what his grandfather told him.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, he continued to walk down the muddy streets of the outskirts. He had been walking for a while now, after all, the building that he is looking for is located at the very edge of the outskirt itself.
The outskirts of the outskirts, if you will.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, June looked up to see a large abandoned concrete building standing in front of him. It seems that he has finally arrived at his destination.
He has been to this building a few times in the past. The first time was with his grandfather when his parents were both busy at work. The other few times were similar to what he's planning to do currently, gather information.
Pushing the rusty metallic door open, June sighed as he took out his old communicator, turned on the flash function, and stepped into the building.
The building that he's in was an abandoned government site, built somewhere during the heyday of the spell decent. Though after a few years it was abandoned, never to be touched again by the people who once worked here. The grounds that it was built upon slowly, but gradually, became the earliest outskirts part of the Northern Quadrant Siege Capital.
Though the moment he entered the building, the air was more humid and warmer compared to the polluted, barren wastelands outside. A sign of the remarkable ingenuity of the people who designed and built the site
Well, that isn't exactly true. June's grandfather, Randall, has visited this old site for reminiscing purposes from time to time.
June continued to walk in silence, his footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, towards the direction of the now crooked staircase that connects the first and second floors together.
The floor here has grown damper over the years, and every few steps he takes, June could feel that the tiles are breaking apart under his feet.
Looking around, he could see vegetation, whatever kind of plant or fungi that still reside in the barren wilderness, at least, growing from the cracks in the walls.
Rubbing his eyes with his index finger, June slowly ascends the staircase.
Creak Creak—
Each footfall he takes sends an avalanche of plastered dust down the edges of the step. The stairs are just as damped as they are dusty, with certain areas having a corroded appearance, perhaps due to the acidic water droplets coming down from the ceiling.
The further he walked into the dark abyss; he could see old items that employees here have left around, scattered over the place. A pile of papers on the ground here, and a paper clip over there.
There was more plant life growing on both the floor and the walls, too. Perhaps the old building has protected them somewhat from the harsh environment of the outskirts.
It seemed to be a couple of large butterflies-like mushrooms the size of a fist, accompanied by moss that grew along the hallway.
Though after a minute of walking along the empty hallway of the second floor, June finally halted.
Turning around, he used his Communicator to shine on the door in front of him. It seems like he had finally arrived at the room that he was searching for, since entering the old Government site. Hanging on the door, there was a sign saying:
[Information Centre. Employees only.]
"It should be in here."
June whispered to himself as he placed one hand on the rusty door handle, twisting it.
Creak Creak—
Inside the room were several rows of bookshelves, designed for government files to be kept. Although several were now missing, presumably the scientist here took it with them when the site was abandoned, there was still an abundance of folders left.
'The file for it should be somewhere lying around here.'
June thought as he carefully checked each row, shelf by shelf. The bookshelves themselves had around 3 rows, so searching for the file that he's looking for was going to take some time.
'Where is it...'
Although these days information is stored online, back when the spell first descended with the emergence of 'Awakened' individuals, people noted things down via both digital and physical means. Probably due to how terrible the web was back then.
'It should be at row S...'
June pondered to himself. Although the folders here were organised and categorized through letters, there was a reason why he didn't check out the 'S' row at the start. It was that, for some reason, certain files here were mixed up and out of order.
Corsair quickly hurried over to the row with the designation of 'S', then looked for the folder that he was searching for.
"Should be somewhere here... Ah! There it is."
Grabbing the folder from the shelf, he brushed off the dust that lay on it, revealing the title beneath.
[Shard Dust.]